


Megane

by frostings



Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M, kakasaku - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 09:33:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3062795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostings/pseuds/frostings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kakashi gets his first pair of glasses. Married Kakasaku.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Megane

**Author's Note:**

> A million years ago, I got a prompt from serenitytouched and neonanything a fic about Kakashi and glasses. And I wanted to write a slice of life, reality of marriage, kind of piece. It can actually live in the same setting as “Admissions,” now that I think about it. Mistakes are all mine, if it’s a little weird, I do apologize, but I do hope you like it. :)
> 
> Dedicated to dimisfit as a late Christmas present! :D
> 
> *Megane = "glasses" in Japanese

Kakashi comes home with a new pair of glasses.

The first time he wears them, he subtly-not-subtly anxiously checks Sakura’s reaction to them. He peers at her over his cup of coffee, and later, when he’s gathering the dishes after breakfast. Her expression is evenly neutral, peaceful, even. She talks with him about the usual things—his last mission reports lined up for him, her research at the hospital, whether he’d be cooking dinner for tonight. He knows that his wife can see, and has in fact improved in her observational skills in their years of marriage, but she does not even comment on the fact that he needs glasses to see her pretty green eyes better now. 

He doesn’t bring it up for the simple fact that he already knows how it will go. Sakura will hear the self-consciousness in his voice, he’d try to deny it, and they would have one of those fights about how he’s old, but he’s really not, and somehow it will all devolve into this old (pun not intended) argument they seem to have again and again about their age difference.

So.

Yes.

That is exactly why he is not going to be the first to crack. He’s been trained to withstand torture; he can do this.

As much as he has to agree that the whole issue of him being her former teacher, her being his former student, the age gap, the whole muddled connections between Team 7 are largely behind them, there are still things that, if he is honest, would probably never be totally settled, and probably they will never really agree on. These are one of the revelations of a long-term relationship, and indeed, marriage, but it’s just one of those things. He feels those differences on a daily basis as well. He sometimes wonders at Sakura’s reading material, her penchant for prettily-decorated cakes, and her interest in fashion. He doesn’t understand a lot of it, and she knows it, too. Then again, she’s never understood some things about him, like Icha Icha and his preference to traditional food. It’s just one of those things.

However, there is also the fact that every day he wakes up and inspects his face and sees the tiny changes in them. The advantage to having a masked face is that only a few people are privy to these minute changes, but they are changes still, and they are becoming more pronounced as the years go by. Though not very obvious, there are streaks of white in the silver of his hair, the deepening crow’s feet around his eyes, the laugh lines around his mouth. Kakashi is not a vain man, and Sakura doesn’t mind, but it occurs to him that he is starting to look older than how he remembers his father looking like.

“I’m leaving now,” Sakura interrupts his thoughts, and before he knows it, she is on her tiptoes, leaning up to kiss him. Her nose bumps ever so slightly against his, and she gives him a knowing look.

And yet, nothing.

He sits down after she leaves, removes his glasses and rubs his eyes wearily. It’s vaguely maddening how there are things they’re not saying each other, but they are things too embarrassing to say aloud. The glasses don’t look ridiculous now, as likes to keep the mask off when he’s actually at home. But with the glasses on, in addition to the mask, well then, it’s just something that Kakashi’s not really ready to do as yet.

He sits down and tries to read a book. It’s a relief to read the words easily, but the relief lasts him only a few minutes now and he’s now a bit irritable, wanting for something to do. Retirement is not kind to former ninjas, and no matter how deeply Kakashi is grateful for lasting this long, having the chance to have a quiet life, he finds that the hours are harder to fill up than he expected. His blurry vision, though inconvenient, is also a blessing in itself. For the longest time, they had expected the transplanted Sharingan to wreak havoc in his body over use and time, but luck had given Kakashi another outcome. He had expected to become blind, but instead, the Sharingan had faded into a normal eye, taking its abilities with it as it did so.

Sakura had suggested gardening, once. He hasn’t really taken care of plants since Mr. Ukki, all those years ago. Mr. Ukki survived enough to become a proud tree sapling. With this encouraging thought in mind, Kakashi strides out to their small pocket garden and notices the tulip bulbs Sakura has prepared for planting. He remembers that she’s been anxious to plant them before autumn ends, and decides that he’d go ahead and do this thing for her.

He quickly retrieves a book she’s left behind about planting tulip bulbs and quickly reviews how to plant them. He hopes he remembers it well enough to do a good job—he won’t want her to be disappointed in the Spring. He laughs a little at himself—Copy Ninja Kakashi, can’t even remember a few gardening steps. He’s been so tied with his Sharingan for the longest time, and the eventual disappearance of his abilities gave him time to adjust, but still…it feels strange, to have it gone, something that’s been with him for the longest time. He realizes that despite his efforts, he has taken his Sharingan properties for granted, used it for the most menial tasks.

He puts an old apron on, and a pair of gardening gloves. This is what retirement means, Kakashi thinks wryly to himself as he sets upon to the task. Kakashi Hatake—a beginner again. He remembers how Sakura had been frustrated with her last year’s attempt at growing tulips. She had actually dug up them up to check if they had died. Ino, who, once upon a time fancied Sakura her gardening protégé, almost blew her gasket. That had been a very interesting day at the Haruno-Hatake household.

Before he knows it, two hours have passed and he’s done digging up a row of holes to plant the tulips in. He gets the tulip bulbs and handles them carefully, putting them in the ground one by one.

“Bye!” He says cheerfully before he dusts earth back over them. He must be really going batty.

Kakashi stands up and stares at the little mounds of earth, as if expecting the tulips to grow instantly. He laughs at himself and shakes his head. Sakura would be pleased to see him being so useful, he thinks. But if he’s being honest with himself, he rather likes gardening. To think that there’s something to look forward to after winter may inspire a lot of metaphors about growing old and growing up, but he foregoes all of them for the meantime.

 He’s not really old, he reminds himself. Fifty is not old—but ninjas never expect to live this long, anyway, and if they do, it’s because they’re immensely talented like Jiraiya or Tsunade. His life seems to be a long string of sheer good luck coupled with sheer bad luck, depending on how he looked at it. Since Sakura, though, he’s been thinking it’s been good luck all along, for the most part.

He knows Gai has arrived before his friend even speaks. “My Eternal Rival!”

He turns around and raises a hand. “Yo.”

“I came to see the glasses,” Gai says, striding over. Kakashi has to appreciate, once again, how little Gai has changed through the years. His friend still wears that ridiculous green jumpsuit, looking more like a gardener than Kakashi in his apron and gloves. He’s also very updated with the daily goings-on in Kakashi’s life, and Kakashi isn’t even surprised that Gai is here to check out his  _glasses._

True to form, Gai stands there, one hand on his chin, looking thoughtful. “As always, you look very hip, Kakashi! From one cool thing to another! That’s always been your way!”

Kakashi is not really comfortable talking about it, so he says, “And I’ve been trying them out, and it’s nice to actually see someone’s facial features after days of you all looking like blobs. Look, I planted tulips!” he points out.

The two stand side-by-side and gaze down at the dirt in silence for a while.

“Impressive!” Gai says, kindly.

“So, what news, Gai? What are you up to?” Kakashi says, changing the subject again.

“New chuunin teams that I’m meeting tomorrow! Ah, the power of youth flows strongly in Konoha!” Gai settles himself at their table as Kakashi makes tea. “Why aren’t you teaching again, Kakashi?”

Kakashi’s hand stills for a millisecond following the question. “You know I’m not on active duty anymore. There’s nothing I can teach.”

“But active duty isn’t a requirement!” Gai protests.

“Well, no, but we know they all prefer someone on active duty.” And because this is Gai he is speaking to, Kakashi speaks frankly. “I don’t think I have the energy to become a teacher again. I wasn’t very good at it the last time.” People like Gai are made for teaching, Kakashi thinks. Him, on the other hand…

It also hurts to see the children of Sakura’s friends among the lot, knowing that he and Sakura are having difficulty in conceiving. This is something that he can’t tell Gai. At least, not yet.

Gai looks like he wants to say something, but opts to talk about other things. Kakashi finally fixes them tea, and they look out to the autumn morning, talking about nothing in particular. Gai is his friend for this very reason, Kakashi thinks fondly. People don’t know it, but Gai always knows what to say, and when not to say it.

When there’s a lull in the conversation, Kakashi can’t help but ask, “Does it make me look  _so_ old, Gai?”

Gai considers the question carefully, purses his lips and exhales a breath as he suddenly laughs. “Good god, no! It’s not the glasses, at least.”

Kakashi expects it to be about something about his paunchy stomach or the lines around his eyes, but Gai says, “You have this expression. You’re wearing it more often lately. You look worried.”

In a worrisome life, it’s a surprising observation from an old friend. Kakashi wants to say something light and clever, something that will make Gai think it’s nothing. But all he could muster is an, “Oh.”

———

Kakashi is making dinner when his wife comes home.

He likes how her yin seal catches a glint of sunlight as she lets herself in. Somehow, the whole day had passed and he spent most of it in the garden.  He’s washing the rice when she steps into the kitchen.

“Hello there!” Sakura says in greeting as she goes up to him for her kiss. She scratches his stubble playfully—he’s forgotten to shave that day—and fetches a glass of water for her to drink. She doesn’t say anything about his glasses.

She disappears into their bedroom to change and he follows her. From the doorway he watches her undress carefully, beautiful in the half-light.

“Glad you got the glasses now, don’t you,” Sakura says as she lets her dress slip down. He thinks about how she’s never really reproached him for what he’s always deemed his failure. Failure to give her the child she wanted. He wonders if she sees him old now, not because of the glasses—it seems like a silly thing to have been worried about—but because she could see him clearly now.

“I am,” he says. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

She puts away her shoes and puts on a light shirt and sweatpants. She’s not in an amorous mood, he can tell. She pauses before saying, “I’m not pregnant.”

“I see.” He puts his hands in his pockets.

“I can feel my period coming on anytime now,” he can tell she’s straining to keep her voice light.  “How about you? How was your day?”

“Gai came over, and I think he drank most of our tea,” Kakashi replies in an even tone. The room is getting darker. “And I planted the tulips.”

“Oh? Can I see?”

They step out of the house together, hand in hand, and march over to the garden. They admire his handiwork. It doesn’t look much, but he’s rearranged the decorative stones and watered the plants, trimmed the grass and tied up loose stalks of some of the flowers in the flower boxes. He points out some of it to Sakura and she hums in appreciation. It’s a strange sensation, but he’s proud of what he’s done today. It’s even better than pulling off a perfect ANBU mission. It’s probably because it required a lot less bloodshed.

“Thank you,” Sakura says. “We’ll have something to look forward to in the spring.” And he thinks about the baby, the baby that she wants, and he wants to apologize, but he doesn’t know how to.

She faces him and reaches up to take the glasses from his face. She blows a little on the glass, misting it over. She rubs it clean with her sleeve before she replaces them back on his face. “It looks very good on you,” she says.

He wonders how Sakura never wears her disappointments on her face. He supposes that is his one great failing, the reason why he keeps a mask on all this time. He is not that good of an actor. But Sakura does not act to keep the disappointment at bay, but she simply hopes for a better turnout the next time. Like the tulips sleeping to see the spring. Perhaps he can spare himself one metaphor for today. For his wife.

He counts himself lucky to find someone he doesn’t have to apologize being late to, simply because she’s already looking towards tomorrow.

“I think I’m going to wear these without the mask now,” he says. If she likes it on him, then he’d wear the glasses just the way she likes them.

Sakura smiles. “Good. I’ve always wanted a trophy husband.” She always wanted to show everyone his looks, as strange as it sounded to him.

“We’ll try again, Sakura,” he says, finally.

“It’s not anyone’s fault,” she replies. “I don’t want you to think it’s your fault.” And she’s like this, Sakura, always unbearably kind, and it’s a different kind of hurt.

He puts his arm around her and draws her close. She knows what he wants to say, and she’s grateful for it. He’s grateful that she knows. He’s grateful for so many things. He’s afraid to lose it, too, but he can’t help it. That worried look on his face…maybe he’ll always be wearing it, too; because once upon a time, Sakura could have had it all, but she chose him.

She turns to kiss him, and just like that his worries are put to rest.

Later that night, he dreams of tulips blooming in the winter, and he takes it as a good sign.

After all, since Sakura, he’s come to believe in good luck. 


End file.
